


Bedtime Rituals in the London Sky

by SioDymph



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Cartoons (Classic), Mary Poppins (Movies), Mary Poppins - P. L. Travers, Peter Pan (1953), Peter Pan (2003), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Crossover, Gen, Late at Night, London, Magic is Real, Modern Era, slight found family, yondu reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SioDymph/pseuds/SioDymph
Summary: Mary Poppins will always be there to look after the children who need her. Even if one of them has decided to never grow up…





	Bedtime Rituals in the London Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a little something I dreamed up a few months ago and finally put into words. Hope you enjoy!

As another night drew in over the city of London, Mary Poppins watched from afar on her clouds. With the sun gone the roads and buildings came to life with their own brilliant light.

It was a bittersweet thing. Each night she couldn’t help but wonder what all her old friends and charges in the past would think of their city now. So much had changed as London continued on into the 21st century. And yet so many things defiantly stayed the same.

She for one certainly wasn’t going anywhere. As always there were families who needed help. There were always children who needed to learn a little more discipline, or a little more fun. And there were always parents who felt in over their heads and didn’t know what to do.

And there were others too who’d made it their resolve to continue as they always had.

For example, there was still a gentleman on Baker Street who could solve any mystery you gave him. If you were cunning or desperate enough to find him first, of course.

There were always the handful of children who could do remarkably strange things. And after turning twelve they would be invited to attend a private school far away from the city where they could hone their secret talents.

And as much as it broke her heart, Mary Poppins knew there were always children in the foster care systems, orphanages, or even abandoned on the street who would slip through the cracks. The lost ones. Eventually many of them would disappear without a trace. A few would reappear many years after their vanishing act, though they hadn’t aged a day since leaving. But others were never seen in London again...

Their leader however, a boy not much older than the lost children, was never gone from the city long. He always came back in the night. Looking for the children who needed a family and home. Playing with the lonely little souls who needed a friend.

And for stories. There was almost nothing else the boy liked more than a good story.

Mary had learned that after getting to know him better. The two went a long way back. Both being self-proclaimed guardians of children, though they both had rather different meanings of what it meant to watch out for children…

When they’d first met Mary had made the mistake of trying to take care of the boy the same way she looked after many of her more defiant, prideful charges. But she quickly learned that this boy was different from any of the children she’d taken care of over the years. Children were meant to have fun and learn, but in the end they were always destined to grow-up. It took her a while to realize but once she came to understand and accept that this boy wouldn’t and couldn’t change who he was, they began to bond much better. And eventually they became the good friends they were now.

Though Mary still couldn’t resist trying to lecture the boy about having better manners and diet choices. She couldn’t help it. It was as much her nature to be a Nanny as it was for the boy to be a mischief-maker.

Mary found him spying on the O’Doyle family in Finsbury Park. For the past few year he’d been visiting them nightly. At this point Mary had long given up trying to explain to him concepts like eavesdropping or invading privacy. And it wasn’t that he didn’t know. The boy just didn’t care.

What mattered to him most was the stories.

“Peter.” Mary greeted the boy. Landing with her umbrella softly near his side along the slanted roof.

For a second Peter seemed mortified, staring a Mary like he’d been caught stealing sweets. But when he realized who she was he just turned back to the window.

“Keep it down would you, Mary?” Peter muttered indignantly. “Trying to hear!”

Ordinarily Mary would have scolded any child for referring to her by her first name. But she’d long given up trying to explain the concepts of respecting elders to Peter as well.

Inside Mary could see the O’Doyle, father reading to his three daughters. The girls watched with wide-eyed wonder as their father painted a story of suspense, fantasy and pure adventure. Mary could see why Peter enjoyed their stories so much. But it was a cold night and the O’Doyle family had decided to leave their windows shut. Greatly muting Mr. O’Doyle’s performance.

“Perhaps you should visit another family tonight.” Mary suggested, hating to see Peter struggling to hear.

“But Mr. O’Doyle has the best stories! Better than anyone in London.” Peter said, still refusing to look at Mary. “Tonight he decided to be a pain and sealed the window shut!”

“It is nearly 5 degrees. I doubt he’d want his children to catch a flu in the night.” Mary pointed out.

But Peter was hardly phased. “Aw, it’s not that bad! They’re just being babies!”

Peter pressed his ear directly up to the glass. Trying desperately to hear the bedtime story. But the only things he could make out where the theatrical embellishments the father put on the ends of his sentences and the small peals of laughter that came from the girls each time.

And though the boy hid his disappointment with an irritated huff Mary could see the sad look in his eyes.

“Looks like I’ll never know how Bilbo and the dwarves escaped the Elven kingdom!” He said, throwing himself back dramatically.

“I’m certain you’ve heard _the Hobbit_ a hundred times by now.”

“I have. But nobody tells it quite like Donovan O’Doyle! The voices! The drama! He really makes you like you’re there.” Peter pouted.

Mary really hated it when Peter began to sulk. He was the type of person to treat small issues like the end of the world, and bigger problems like they were nothing. But regardless of what motivated it when he was sad he looked so crest-fallen, it was like all the joy and warmth surrounding him was suddenly sucked away. It was honestly pathetic. And if Mary were a weaker Nanny it would have broken her heart completely.

She’d never let a child pout or sulk long in her presence and she wasn’t about to entertain the notion now.

An idea quickly came to her. About a month ago she’d been looking after a young girl named Kamar. And Kamar happened to love stories from films. Specifically ones about a silly team of heroes called “The Guardians of the Galaxy”. Kamar had spent long hours playing pretend and recounting all their misadventures across space. In the short time Mary had taken care of the girl she’d become a bit of an expert about the heroes.

While Peter pouted, Mary tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you heard the tale of Yondu?”

Peter was reluctant to reply. But eventually he mumbled a quiet “No.”

“If you like, I could tell you his story. It’s not very long and I’m sure you’d find it rather amusing.”

Peter looked to back towards the O’Doyle home, then towards the night sky, but never quite at Mary.

“He’s quite the character. You see he has a special arrow he can control by doing something rather odd.”

There was an undeniable spark in his eyes then, no matter how hard her tried to hide it. And finally Peter caved. “I guess I could spare a little more time to hear about this Yondu.”

A woman with perfect manners and politeness, Mary didn’t gloat. But she smiled, pleased. “Excellent. Meet me over at the North Library and I’ll tell you all about him.”

Like a bolt of lightning, Peter shot up from his spot by the window and took off. Racing towards the library. Mary watched in slight amusement before gracefully taking to the sky on her umbrella.

Peter waited for her impatiently on the library roof as she glided across the city streets. Her feet had just touched the roof when Peter blurted out.

“So what does Yondu do?”

“If you kindly gave me a moment, Peter. I will tell you all about it.” Mary replied curly. “Patience is a virtue.”

Peter seemed like he wanted to nag her more. But instead he sat quietly. Giving Mary time to sit by his side and begin telling the tale of Yondu.

Though she could admit she wasn’t nearly as skilled as Mr. O’Doyle, Mary still managed to tell Peter a wonderful story about the alien man who could control his arrow by whistling commands. And who guided his arrow with his very heart. A man who lead a mutinous gang of ravagers, and despite his hard edges always had a soft spot for the human boy he considered his son.

Eventually Mary saw the boy begin to nod off. Head propped on his knees and eyes drooping closed. And when she finally ended her tale Peter began to wake up some.

“That was nice.” He said simply. “Shame he had to die though.”

“I agree.” Mary replied. “Now I don’t know about you but I think it’s time to return home for the night.”

“You think so?”

“We can’t spend the entire night flying roof to roof.”

“Maybe you can’t…” He dared. Mary gave Peter a very pointed look and eventually he relented. “Fine! I’ll be off too. I bet the boys and girls will love hearing about the Yondu story… So thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome, Peter.” Mary said warmly.  

“See you around, I guess.”

“I’m sure you will. Goodnight Peter.”

“… Goodnight Ms. Poppins.”

And after bidding her goodnight, Peter took to the sky. Effortlessly. As if he were made of air itself. Soaring up into the sky and disappearing into the night. Vanishing from sight as he grew close to the heavens.

In Mary’s long career working as a Nanny she’d learned that each and every child was different. Unique in their thoughts, feelings, needs and choices. Special in their own way.

In turn Mary had learned how to take care of each and every single child who needed her. Always knowing what to do. Always knowing how to solve any problem. Always knowing what each child needed the most. It was more than a job or an ability. It was her duty.

And whether Peter Pan liked it or not, Mary Poppins would always be there to care for him when he needed her as well.


End file.
